


with the stars watching

by Anastasia_G



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Reylo - Freeform, Sibling Incest, luke x leia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8905627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anastasia_G/pseuds/Anastasia_G
Summary: "His awareness coils around her, an invisible hand at her throat, making her glimpse the stars. Suddenly she can’t remember a time when he wasn’t inside and around her, a dark root in her belly, their veins tangling."
 
(Oneshot based on a theory that Kylo and Rey are twins born of Luke and Leia's incestuous relationship.)





	

_“… we lived in a darkness from which we could not be redeemed. I then and now had and have no use for redemption.”_ \- Jamaica Kincaid  


* * *

 

_Do you remember your mother? Your real mother?_

 

Rey imagines her sometimes, in the dark when the sound of her own breathing grew unbearable. Her mother, with hair dark as her own, a kind smile in a beautiful face, arms that open and part Time like a curtain.

She always imagines her in blue, not the pitiless blue of the desert sky, but a cool, wet, dreamlike color. Blue like the lakes on Naboo that she has never seen but heard traders speak of. A blue you could lay your cheek on. Could kiss.

In her dreams it’s always her mother who came back for her, rushing to gather her daughter in her arms. Sometimes, if the dream lasted long enough, she glimpses another figure over her mother’s shoulder. A man whose face she can’t recognize, his hair the color of inescapable sand.

 

* * *

 

She hated that he carried her on board his ship, like a sleeping child.

This was a dream she had reserved for her mother, not this...this _creature_ with his stark face and too-red mouth.

This strange, serpent of a man - _boy_ , she tells herself, he’s just a _boy_ \- whose mind grasped hers without warning or permission, like solitude taking the shape of a gloved hand. And suddenly she’s back in the desert, alone, whispering into the dark.

And his voice whispers back.

_I can take anything I want._

His awareness coils around her, an invisible hand at her throat, making her glimpse the stars. Suddenly she can’t remember a time when he wasn’t inside and around her, a dark root in her belly, their veins tangling.

_You know_

She finally looks him in the eye

Her own mind rears, hissing like a snake. She snatches him up in smothering arms. _You’re afraid_.

Yes, yes.

_I know_.

 

* * *

 

_She was very beautiful...kind. But sad._

Luke has seen beauty in Leia, of course. Even the blind would be hard-pressed to deny the sweep of her presence in a room, the throaty warmth of her voice.

He has seen her sadness too, rippling beneath the steely surface, a deep lake full of years and memories no one can fathom.

“I’m not her, you know,” she tells him one night after the fall of the Empire. He is feverish between her thighs. The loose tresses of dark hair frame a face that’s both beautiful and funereal. Luke lets his hand hover over her cheek, afraid of what he might touch.

_Your real mother._

Leia kisses the hollow of his palm, his wrist, his mouth. He is lost. He is home.

He will lose this too.

“I know,” he pants quietly. “Leia - I’m -,”

“Hush,” she chides softly with a tug on his hair. Her other hand unbuttons her shirt, lowers his mouth to the dark, star-like nipple. Luke stares at the puckered skin and his mouth is dry. An entire desert takes up residence in his throat. He takes the nipple between his lips, over his tongue. He sucks and Leia’s body goes electric against his own. The Force, and Time, part to receive them.

Leia strokes his hair tenderly, her thighs move in a faltering rhythm, a lullaby snatched piecemeal through the slap of sweat-slick flesh. The kindness of the body, that is felt in silence.

 

* * *

 

Some part of him lingered yet in her mind, long after she’d left him broken and scarred in the snow.

A trace of some other longing, some other, secret touch.

Rey touches her smooth, unmarred cheek. The flesh burns in the shape of the scar she had given him, her little memento, her promise to return. There is no trace of kindness in the smile that curves her mouth.

_Good_ , she thinks. _Remember me and burn_.

 

* * *

 

“Ani, come look at the sky.”

“It looks the same, mom,” he complains, but nestles into his mother’s lap and lets Shmi muss his hair. The stars glitter as they always have. Far away and beautiful.

“Do you know why I love the stars?” she whispers.

He shakes his head.

“Because they gave me you,” she tickles him a little and then hugs him close again. “And one day, they’ll bring us our freedom.”

Anakin doesn’t believe anything would come down here, here where everything is choking dust and grime and toil. Their loss really, because his mother is here. They will never see her blue dress and dark hair and kind smile. The smell of her warm neck and the sound of her soft voice.

He pities the stars. Grows tall in the light of their envy.

 

* * *

 

“You have no idea what it was like! Tasting her guilt with the first drops of her milk. Knowing I was always -,”

“At least you had her! You had them, YOU HAD EVERYTHING!” Rey is roaring, her voice like a trapped animal in her throat.

“I don’t want them!” Kylo roars back, the red of his lightsaber slicing through the air. “I never wanted them. I never wanted -,”

“LIAR!” she screams and rushes him, her own saber blazing blue. Blue like ice, like lightning, like the last taste of light before you drown.

 

* * *

 

Leia doesn’t want to be her. She’s never wanted to be her.

Her mother was a distant dream, an ideal to seek comfort in, not a real path to follow.

The woman who birthed hope and despair. The Senator who ruled a nation but gave her heart away like any hapless girl.

But lying in the throes of childbirth she wishes, for the first time in her life that Padme Amidala was by her side. To hold and press her hand, teach her how to float in people’s minds like a beautiful, watery memory. Not live with the flesh of her transgression.

“Rey,” she breathes to the medic as the baby girl is pulled from her sticky thighs. The second one, the boy, takes longer to retrieve. He is pale and his cry is thin, hungry. _Already accusatory_ , she thinks.

“Ben.”

 

* * *

 

“Rey,” his voice is hoarse, his hand shaking. She straddles him in the snow, lightsaber held over his head. The blue washes over his face and he prepares to die.

As if she would ever be rid of him, rooted inside her, tangled in her veins.

Rey drops her weapon. Grabs Kylo by a fistful of hair and pulls his mouth up to her own. She doesn’t kiss him so much as bite those lips that are too soft, too full of yearning.

Their fingers are hard from the cold. Their breath ghosts in the air. They twine and writhe like snakes. Rey takes him inside her and yet his eyes are broken open, he is broken open for her.

He is lost. She is home.

This is something they won’t lose.

He is gasping into her breast, hips thrusting helplessly. Rey grinds down like a reprimand, hisses against his mouth. “Quiet.”

She tears open her shirt, shoves a hard nipple in his mouth. He makes a muffled sound of longing and she comes shuddering over him. “Ben,” she growls soft and harsh, hands tangling in his hair darker than her own.

_Remember your mother, your real mother._

Yes, yes.

_I can take anything I want._

 

* * *

 

_A slavewoman on Tattooine looked up at the starry blue sky and yearned. She yearned so hard the stars reached into her body and stroked it from the inside out, filled her and enjoyed her. Gave her something she was never meant to have._

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This incestuous theory took hold of me and wouldn't let go until I wrote and shared this.


End file.
